Freedom and Folly
by DecepticonLiberty
Summary: Megatron had been captured before, but, somehow, he knew this time was different. This time, there would be no escape. Does execution await the captured warlord? Or something far worse? There is more to Megatron's past than even his closest lieutenants realize, and that past has come to haunt him now in the form of the mech who raised him from sparklinghood. TFA Set after Endgame
1. Chapter 1

"Ours is a world of nuclear giants and ethical infants. We know more about war than we know about peace, more about killing than we know about living"

Omar N. Bradley

_You should have finished me, Optimus Prime. _

Organic particles, dust, float through the air. They are the remnants of a battle recently finished. There is a ghostly silence where only moments ago the sound of metal clashing could be heard in every corner of the human city. Megatron stands over his enemy, now nothing more than an unrecognizable chunk of gray metal. The organic planet's sun gleams off the victor's magnificent alloy frame, even with cracks and dents Warlord manages to ooze an aura of authority. With a smirk of satisfaction the Decepticon leader heaves his sword out of the hallow spark chamber to which it had dealt the lethal blow. Foolish Autobot. After taking a second more to admire his handy-work, Megatron wipes the fresh energon from his sword and turns to survey the city. The city that is now his to control. His to destroy. No human or Autobot will be able to stop him, but, perhaps just to remind the masses of his power, he should hang the dead Prime's body where all could see it.

_All will kneel before me. _

However, when Megatron twists to face the mangled corpse at his feet, there is nothing but a crater of rock where the body had lain not more than a few clicks before. Red optics widen in surprise. How is this possible? The body must have stolen from right under his nose! But, by whom? A roar of frustration escapes through fanged teeth and Megatron wipes around, determined to find the bot who took his spoils from him. His sensors detect nothing. No movement occurs in the destroyed civilization except his own. No other life form reveals itself on his radar. How can this be?

Without warning, pain explodes on the right side of the Warlord's face, as if he'd been punched. Megatron groans as reels from the invisible attacker, cupping his now bleeding lip with a large black hand. The Decepticon is quick to recover into a defensive stand, sword and fusion cannon at the ready. Just to be sure, he runs a scan for life-forms, organic or Cybertronian, but, again, there is nothing. The next blow feels like a kick to his abdomen and Megatron is knocked to his knees, wheezing. The assailant must be more than invisible, for Megatron to neither have heard nor felt him come in for the attack. Using his sword for support, Megatron attempts to pull himself back to his feet, but his systems will no longer respond to him. His legs feel as if they've been filled with tar. The city, _his _city, begins to fade away, but instead of darkness, another image appears before Megatron's eyes. Gray walls. Dim light. He fights to hold on to reality, although he is not quite sure which is reality and which is dream.

_Megatron! _

A deep voice calls him, taunts him. Where does it come from? The city fades away again, revealing the silhouettes of two mechs above him. Megatron roars in frustration as he once again endeavors, to no avail, to stand.

Another blow to the face, and Megatron wakes up.

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Three gray walls and a steel door enclose Megatron in a small cell. Above him a dim light flickers, illuminating the filth and desolation of his living arrangement. The small box to which the Decepticon is confined is not large enough for him to stand. Upon his arrival he was forced onto his knees, arms wrenched out and back and shackled to the wall behind him. Further shackles rise up from the floor and latch around the Warlord's thick neck, dragging his head forward and down, allowing him to look at nothing except for the grimy floor and his own damaged silver thighs. The cumbersome position had already taken a toll on his systems in the few short days he had been in the stockades. The constant stretching of the wires in Megatron's shoulders and back caused them to burn with discomfort.

A kick to the face reminded Megatron of what had woken him. The Decepticon strained his neck upward much to the chagrin of his circuitry to face his assailant. Two Autotroopers gazed back down at him, any emotion hidden behind their wide visors.

"Meal time, Megatron." One said, voice scarcely more than that of a monotone drone. The second Trooper placed a cube of florescent energon inches away from the hulking frame of the Warlord. Every day since his arrival, they've done this. Taunted him with the promise of sustenance that his system so desperately required, only to keep in just out of his reach. So be it. Megatron will not be baited by their poor attempts to demean him. He allows the chains to pull his head back down and proceed to ignore his jailers. When the Autotroopers realize he won't be persuaded to beg or plead, they grow bored and exit his already cramped cell, returning to their post just outside the thick door. When Megatron is certain they will not return for the day, he steals a quick glance at the cube, its pink hue lighting up the dank room. His gray tongue rolls across his lips as his tank lurches and twists, beginning for fuel. It is useless to tantalize his insides with the sight of energon, so Megatron heaves out a great sigh and offlines his optics in a bid to once again enter recharge.

_You should have finished me, Optimus Prime. _


	2. Chapter 2

"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power"

Abraham Lincoln

The Autobot Council had a long, sometimes dark, history on Cybertron. Some of the mechs who held seats on the council were the greatest leaders the planet had ever seen. Selfless and righteous. True Autobots, through and through. Others, though, were too full of selfish ambition and lust for power. They cared not for the common person or their suffering, or for upholding the Autobot core values.

Many Autobots remain ignorant to the corruption of their government. Young mechs, idealists such as Optimus Prime, believe the council to be nothing but benevolent. Even as he stands before them now, there is no doubt in his mind that their every decision is honorable, and in the best interest for Cybertron.

"Optimus Prime, this council, and the planet of Cybertron, will forever be indebted to you." Alpha Trion, an ancient, bearded mech speaks. He is one of the few bots who predates the war, one of the first models to be brought online just after the Cybertronians won independence from the Quintessons.

There are many other mechs on the council. Perceptor, an ambassador from the Ministry of Science, as well as Halogen, Xaaron and Avalon, to name a few. Sentinel Magnus sat at the highest seat, looking down at Optimus in thinly vailed contempt as the rest of the council congratulated the young prime.

As for himself, Optimus Prime stood in the center of the assembly, looking up at the powerful mechs who once thought of him as scarcely more than a maintenance bot, awed and, slightly, flustered. Alpha Trion continued to shower praise over the young mech.

"Optimus Prime," The ancient mech says "you are truly deserving of the title of Magnus." Sentinel sputters and leans forward in his seat, but Alpha Trion does not acknowledge him "The council has come to an agreement, and the title is yours should you desire it."

Sentinel turned his steely glare to Optimus, who face looks just as surprise as Sentinel's does furious.

The young prime contemplates this. In his spark, it is an easy decision. The title of Magnus is one he never thought of attaining. It had seemed too impossible. He tries to picture himself as a Magnus. He would try to be a kind, but firm leader, as Ultra Magnus had been. But it is lonely at the top, and Optimus knows there are others who need him more.

"With all due respect, sir" Optimus begins, unsure of how to phrase his request. "I think I'm more needed elsewhere."

"Oh?" The surprise in Alpha Trion's voice is absent from his stoic voice, "and where would that be?"

"Earth, sir." Optimus is quick to respond. "The native life there has suffered from our presence, it should be our duty to help them repair what we have destroyed. And perhaps to set up a permanent base of operations there? An embassy of sorts?"

Some of the councilmembers grumble at this. The thought of allying themselves with lesser organics seeming to lack any benefit. However, Alpha Trion looked thoughtful.

"There is much about organic life forms, specifically the creatures of Earth, as you call it, that we have yet to discover; and if your testimony about the…humans, was it?" Optimus nods wordlessly. "Yes, that human companion of yours is quite a unique specimen. It seems the organics of planet Earth are far more developed than we previously imagined. Perhaps it is time to set up a permanent alliance, of sorts. After we have properly dealt with Megatron and the Decepticons, of course."

At the mention of Megatron, Optimus tenses, the final battle with the Decepticon leader was still all too fresh in his processor, and Prowl was too freshly smelted. The moment the former maintenance crew had landed on Cybertron, Autotroopers had swarmed around the captives and escorted them away. Optimus had watched them go, staring into the distance long after they'd disappeared behind the throngs of Autobots welcoming the new heroes home. No one had bothered to tell the young Prime where they were taking his prisoners, and that had caused unease in his spark. Megatron and the remaining Decepticons were his captives, his responsibility. However, it was easy to guess where they'd been taken: Trypticon Prison. Ironically located in the former Decepticon capitol and Kaon, it is easily the most heavily guarded and secure facility on the planet. There is a common saying about the stockades within those massive walls; mechs who go in never come out, which is usually the case because most of the con's confined there face life imprisonment, or execution. _Which will Megatron be receiving? _Prime thinks, his mind wondering back to the final words he had said to the Decepticon; _that would be the easy way out, you don't deserve it. _What did such a mech as Megaton deserve then?

"Sir" Optimus finds himself asking before he can stop himself. "What will become of Megatron? And the Decepticons?"

A look of surprise dances across the ancient mech's face, but before Alpha Trion has a chance to reply, a much louder, and far more uncouth, voice is filling the council chambers.

"You've served your planet, Optimus, by bringing Megatron back to Cybertron for punishment, let the justice system take it from here." Sentinel Prime looks down on Optimus, malice evident on his face and in his words, "No need for you to become some sort of vigilante trying to avenge your fallen comrade, is there?"

"I brought Megatron back for justice" Optimus says, blue fists clenched at the disrespectful mention of Prowl. "As his captor, it should be my responsibility to see due process carried through."

"Well it's not _your _responsibility" Sentinel retorts, "it is the duty of the council to court martial Megatron for his war crimes."

"So, he will be receiving a trial, then?" Optimus asks, hoping that in all Sentinel's rage he will accidently let slip the information the young Prime desire to hear. However, before the temporary Magnus can reply, another councilmember speaks. This mech is far more ancient than either of the Primes, and is closer to Alpha Trion or Ultra Magnus in age and wisdom.

"But, of course, Optimus Prime" Halogen says, until now the elder had been quite; preferring to lurk in the corner and watch the situation unfold than chime in. Halogen has always been, along with Xaaron, one of the more controversial mechs on the council. He had been caught in the company of pleasure femmes in the past. And in the Golden Age he was known to have a fondness for watching the gladiatorial matches in the pits of Kaon. Still, his political knowledge had helped the Autobots win the war for Cybertron, and had helped them successfully rebuild their desolated planet. "The Autobot judicial system will always be upheld."

There is something in the old mech's optics, or perhaps it is the way in which he says these last words, that makes Optimus Prime feel as if he is lying.

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In the end, Optimus supposes as he boards Omega Supreme, it won't have matter if Halogen had been truthful with him or not. The young Prime did not expect to be leaving his home planet so soon. And, yet, here he is staring down at his home city of Iacon from one of the giant Autobot's many large windows. His meeting with the council had only been a little over a week ago, and, already, it had been decided that Optimus would travel with his original crew, and Jazz, back to Earth to set up a conference with the planet's leaders. Despite what Alpha Trion had said, Optimus' request to set up a permanent base on the organic planet is being fulfilled before the Decepticons are dealt with. For the young Prime, it feels good to finally be heard and respected after being taunted and disbelieved for so long.

As Omega Supreme lifts off Cybertron, any thoughts of Megatron or his Decepticons are banished by the warm company of his teammates and the exciting promise of the future.


End file.
